


The Killing Moon

by festivalofpudding (berreh)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, actual mythical beast, and his hair was perfect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berreh/pseuds/festivalofpudding
Summary: One night in 2016, a bunch of Rhetts went camping. This is what happened to one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Elaborating on [a double-drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tropetastic/works/10297376) I wrote for [TheGreyHenley's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreyHenley) Tropetastic Tuesday challenge. Some peeps said they wanted more, and I realized I did, too.

_In[March 2016](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTuKtKkqbGE), Rhett McLaughlin went camping. So did Rhett McLaughlin. Quite a few Rhett McLaughlins, in fact — or to be more precise, an infinite number. Countless parallel Rhetts in countless parallel realities, incalculable variations in a limitless multiverse: one Rhett for every scenario anyone could possibly come up with, each one as real as the mind that created it._

_This is what happened to one of them._

○

“Well, that’s enough of that.” Rhett closed the writing app and rolled onto his back. “If I keep this up, I’m gonna start talking to myself.”

He looked up at the tent ceiling, left unzipped for a spectacular view of the night sky through the mesh moon roof. The Milky Way stared down at him, vast and unblinking. Rhett shuddered and reached up to zip the flap closed. He should have known not to let himself get all ruminate-y out here — but no, what did he do? As soon as he was alone in the middle of nowhere, he freaked himself out staring at the sky pondering multiverse theory until he thought he was going nuts, and then he opened Evernote and started journaling about it like some college kid who just took his first philosophy class. At least Link wasn’t there to see it.

Sighing, he fumbled for the camp light. Forty lumens shrank the infinite back to the confines of his tent, and he slumped back onto his sleeping bag and rubbed his tired eyes. When he reached for his phone again, it was to pull up Netflix. Rhett scrolled through the new releases, looking for something that would distract him until he could fall asleep. He picked some crappy franchise movie and settled in, curling around the little screen, his head pillowed on one arm. After a few minutes he felt a little more at ease, and he reached over to switch off the camp light. The tent went dark except for the flickering phone and a pale glow filtering in from the full moon outside. Rhett grabbed his pillow and curled up again, squirming a little until he got comfy. Halfway through the movie, he was sound asleep.

○

Rhett’s eyes opened in the darkness. He listened for the noise that woke him, but he heard nothing. The desert at night was uncannily silent. He glanced at his phone: the screen was dark. He wasn’t cold, and he didn’t need to pee. He was just… awake. Wide awake, in fact — heart thumping so loud he could hear it, eyes darting around in the gloom, trying to look everywhere at once.

Moonlight filled the tent with an eerie silver glow, so bright he could see everything inside. His things were all where they should be, nothing fallen over or left within kicking reach of his restless feet. The door was zipped closed, just as he’d left it. He could even see the shape of his car outside, its shadow cast in perfect silhouette in the moonlight. And then the shadow stirred. Another shape slipped from behind it and moved closer in the darkness.

Something was outside the tent. Rhett heard its feet on the desert gravel, lighter than footsteps, soft crunchy pats. Then a clicking sound, like a dog’s paws on tile, and a series of low sniffing grunts.

 _Coyote_ , Rhett thought. There weren’t supposed to be any in this area, but hey, nature does what it wants, right? Nothing to freak out about. He hadn’t left any food outside, and he was the stranger here, not the wildlife.

_Just chill, it’ll go away. Nothing to see here, my furry friend. This is not the campsite you’re looking for. Move along._

He almost wished he could get a picture of it, but thought better of trying. Instead he kept as still as possible, willing his racing heart to calm. Why was it beating so hard? Coyotes don’t attack people, he reminded himself. Well, not adults. Not very often. Not that he knew of.

He could see it clearly now, like a shadow puppet on the tent’s nylon wall, projected by the moonlight until it was larger than life: big, far too big, heavy broad shoulders, massive blunted muzzle, maw drawn back to reveal the points of long, sharp teeth.

_not a coyote that’s a wolf— can’t be—_

Something nudged at the tent flap, sniffing against the nylon. The thin material bulged, rippling inward with each snorted breath. Rhett heard a scratching noise in the dirt before the zippered door. A low, even growl vibrated in the darkness.

 _wolf it’s a wolf oh Jesus_ —

Rhett’s heart pounded in his throat as something began to scrape and prod at the zipper. The slider jiggled, gently at first and then more violently, until it jerked and slipped down a few millimeters. A single curved claw slipped in through the gap. It wiggled, and then again, and the zipper slid down a bit more. One furry toe poked through, curled downward, and began working like a finger to ease the nylon apart.

That’s when Rhett knew he was dreaming. There were no wolves in California, and no coyotes that big, and none of either that knew how to work a zipper. This was not real, it was a nightmare brought on by too much navel-gazing and a dinner of beef jerky and Twizzlers. He had got himself worked into a state, and now he was paying the psychological price. _Just a dream, McLaughlin. Bad dream. Time to wake up._

A huge grey paw slid through the flap, toes splayed as it clawed the air. The leg followed, pushing through until the paw touched the tent floor with a soft little pat. One claw hooked the end of Rhett’s sleeping bag and pierced the fabric — _pop_. The paw flexed, and the sleeping bag jerked beneath Rhett’s foot.

Rhett gasped and flailed back, ignoring the wrenching in his spine and a sharp pain as his elbow sent the camp light flying. He scrabbled for the golf club he’d brought with him to hit pebbles with, but he’d left it outside — the camp light was out of reach now too, as was his steel canteen. The tent swayed and shifted under the weight pushing against it. The paw thrust and scratched blindly, looking for purchase; the growl swelled into a snarl, then a furious, blood-curdling howl. There was a tearing sound and the zipper split apart until a hairy shoulder shoved through, as sharp teeth began to rip the gap wider. Rhett prayed aloud and scrambled as far back as he could, kicking out with his long legs in the hope of hitting some vulnerable spot.

 _knife_ — _!_

His pocket knife was in his jeans. Rhett still wasn’t used to carrying it — it had been a gift from Link last Christmas, an old-fashioned Barlow jackknife with a Damascus blade and a silver handle. _Fer yer whittlin_ , Link had said, grinning. So far Rhett had done nothing with it except twirl it on his desk a few times to impress the crew. Now he crawled onto his belly and groped frantically for his jeans, praying he could find the knife before the zipper gave way. Bright pain raked across his right leg and he cried out, but his hand closed on the knife and he twisted to pry it open and bring it down with all his might.

There was a piercing whine and the weight bearing down on him retreated. The tent righted itself and the flap hung loosely around the empty door. A howl of rage and pain tore the air, so loud it made Rhett drop the knife and cover his ears — not the yelp of a wounded animal but a ghastly shriek, like a panther scream, or a human scream of agony. It ended in a choked gulp like a sob and then paws crunched in the dirt, rapidly retreating, faster until the sound faded into the distance. The open tent flap hung empty, rippling in the night air.

Rhett dropped the knife and put his hands to his mouth until his trembling subsided. For a moment he thought he might vomit, but the feeling passed and he ran his hands through his hair to calm himself. He put his head between his knees, but he could not stop shaking. His hands closed into fists in his hair, tighter and tighter until it grew painful. He tore them free and looked down at his palms. His fingers would not uncurl. Pain seized them and both hands cramped, contorting into clawed fists — muscles warping, rippling, tearing— knuckles jutting out, grinding, dislocating — skin tearing, splitting at the nails, sharp tips protruding and curling under—

○

Rhett screamed and convulsed upright. He gasped for air, eyes bulging in blind panic until he realized where he was. Sunlight blinded him and he flinched, squinting. Sunlight. Daylight. Morning.

Just a dream.

He looked down at his hands: shaking as they propped him up on wobbly elbows, but otherwise perfectly normal. His sleeping bag spread out before him undisturbed, and the tent door was zipped up tight. No paw prints on the floor, no scratch marks on the walls, no droplets of blood. Everything was as it had been when he lay down to watch movies on his phone.

He flopped back onto his pillow, putting the heels of his hands to his eyes with a groaning _argh_ of frustration. _No more camping in the desert for you. Not without company._ Forest yes, mountains, beach, but not this desert. As soon as he stopped shaking like a frightened puppy, he was going to turn on his phone and delete whatever nonsense he had written the night before. Nobody needed to find out about this little episode, least of all Link. But first, he was going outside and walk around in the nice, bright, sunshiny day.

He sighed and sat up, wincing at a twinge in his right leg. The dream came back to him in a rush, a bright flash of pain slashing behind his knee. He turned his leg, looked down at his calf. A scratch ran across the muscle — just a scratch, a pink and slightly swollen welt, not even breaking the skin. It looked like a fingernail scratch, or a cut that had already healed. He had probably scraped against the sleeping bag zipper during the night, or some pebble or something on the ground beneath the tent. Or maybe he scratched himself during his nightmare — Link was the sleepwalker, not him, but who knew what kind of mental state he was in last night. With his skin you never knew what would turn out to be nothing and what would grow angry and irritated. Anything could have caused it. He had some ointment in his bag that would clear it right up.

He turned to fetch his backpack and froze. On the floor beside his jeans lay his jackknife, opened to a silver V. The tip was splattered with something dark, a dried stain on the Damascus steel.

Rhett blinked down at the knife, and then he snatched it up and closed it with a snap, stuffing it into his jeans pocket.

He turned to unzip the door, then crawled outside and stood up in the mild morning air. The sun was warm on his skin, the air already dry and thin as the night mist evaporated in the rising sun. He stood in his underwear and faced the rising sun, closing his eyes to fill his lungs with desert air. Another breath, and another, and the dream faded and broke apart, dissipating in light and heat.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at his little campsite: car, fire pit, chair with beach umbrella. The air was mild but the sun shone off the desert, blinding bright even this early. It was kind of nice, actually. Maybe he would stay out here another night. The desert disturbed him, but it thrilled him as well. It excited him as much as it frightened him.

_You’re a freak, McLaughlin. This is why you never married._

He grinned to himself as he reached into the tent to grab his phone. He had completely forgotten his nightmare by the time he stood up again, squinting in the morning light, and took a selfie for Link.


End file.
